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I WAS SITTING in a conference room
at the University of Redlands in California, Jan. 28, and we were enjoying a
beautiful, clear, sunny morning. World
problems, parish concerns and morning
angst had all melted away during my
walk across campus as I gazed at the
mountains in the distance. I was ready
for some serious discussion with campus ministers from around the country,
representing various denominations.
The local Baptist chaplain came into the
room to lead a morning prayer service.
He began by saying we were going to
pray for the seven crew members of the
space shuttle Challenger. The launch
had gone badly; there had been an explosion; the crew was presumed dead. Silence, shock and then the prayer. My
mind wandered. I had forgotten there
was even going to be a launch that day.
The whole thing had become routine.
Then I remembered the teacher on
board. As I began to think about the
students, the prayer ended. I had not
. The meeting began and the dynamics
of the agenda took over. After dinner,
three of us found a TV in the basement
of one of the residence halls. As the nar-
Father James J. Bacik is campus
minister and adjunct professor of
humanities at the University of Toledo,
Ohio.
ration and films appeared on the national news, the full reality of the
tragedy began to hit me. .
I was suddenly back in the sixth-
grade classroom in Sandusky St. Mary's
School teaching a religion class on the
Exodus. Someone knocked on the door
and said President Kennedy was shot.
Some of the students cried. I led a
prayer, finished the lesson and headed
for the TV to be joined with millions in
a common effort to handle personal
grief and the national tragedy. Now
here we were again, gathered around
the TV trying to make sense out of a
less' momentous but very significant national tragedy.
The next day at lunch, someone asked
why the shuttle accident was producing
such an intense emotional response
from so many people, especially considering people are killed in accidents
every day. My initial response was that
it had to do with Christa McAuliffe. Her
personal qualities were so attractive —
the infectious smile, vivacious personality, adventuresome spirit and obvious
love for her family.- But she was more
than an attractive, committed teacher.
She came to represent all the dedicated
teachers in the country and, by extension, all who take seriously the task of
serving youth. This set up the special
poignancy of young people around the
country being brought into direct contact with a terrible tragedy.
Although the representative role of
Christa McAuliffe is crucial to understanding the national response, I have
come to think it is not sufficient to explain its scope and intensity. It now
seems the whole tragedy functions at
the symbolic level. It points to the limitations of our most advanced technology. It destroys the implicit assumptions that science is a quasi-religion
that can usher in the new age. It reminds us that our scientific progress
has a dark, destructive side as well.
In the American psyche, the space
program held a privileged position. The
astronauts not only had the right stuff,
but also took on mythic proportions as
people who could cope with any problems with cool rational detachment.
NASA was one organization you could
count on to get the job done. It was,
quite remarkably, preserved from the
criticisms leveled at most other institutions, including churches, universities,
governments and the Peace Corps.
Today, revelations that NASA is a
human institution that has personal
problems and makes mistakes is greeted
with shock and surprise — a clear indication that it had assumed a mythic quality
in the national consciousness.
A former student of mine, now working toward a doctorate in psychology,
wrote me a very insightful analysis of
the depth of his own reactions to the
Challenger tragedy. He linked it to the
danger of a nuclear catastrophe. A
former astronaut commenting on the
disaster said that riding the shuttle was
like being strapped to a bomb. My friend
picked up on this image. "Isn't spaceship earth also strapped to nuclear
bombs?" he asked. The c«
shuttle disaster is the same technology
that controls nuclear weapons. "If the
shuttle can explode, anything can hap-
Here is a perfect example of the way
the Challenger tragedy functions symbolically. It unleashed a profound anx-
ahly destructive side of the technology
that many have assumed is our salvation and our best hope for a better
world. Symbolic events touch individuals in different ways, but always with
the potential to reveal depths ordinarily
One more Utopian element in the
American dream exploded with the
Challenger. This tragedy joined presidential assassinations, Vietnam and
innocence.
tators returned to the theme of the im-
the tragedy and to make sure
absorbed its lessons before
such idealism. The shuttle
tutors us in a proper respect
creaturely finitude and our
gto
3ter
our
limitations. It reminds us that
and technology, far from being
achievements whose dark side must be
squarely faced.
The human adventure involves risk.
Reaching for the stars sometimes
brings instant tragedy. Each step on the
journey brings us closer to death. Such
sober realism does not have to be morbid or paralyzing; it can free us to make
the most of each moment. Hope is
richer, deeper and more fruitful than
optimism. Only when our field of vision
is cleared of idols and naive Utopian
dreams can Christa McAuliffe reappear
as a genuine symbol of the intrinsic
value of the adventuresome spirit and
of committed service. Realistic hope can
only be grounded in the Gracious Mystery that energizes and rewards our always
the stars.
National Catholic Reporter
May 2, 1986

I WAS SITTING in a conference room
at the University of Redlands in California, Jan. 28, and we were enjoying a
beautiful, clear, sunny morning. World
problems, parish concerns and morning
angst had all melted away during my
walk across campus as I gazed at the
mountains in the distance. I was ready
for some serious discussion with campus ministers from around the country,
representing various denominations.
The local Baptist chaplain came into the
room to lead a morning prayer service.
He began by saying we were going to
pray for the seven crew members of the
space shuttle Challenger. The launch
had gone badly; there had been an explosion; the crew was presumed dead. Silence, shock and then the prayer. My
mind wandered. I had forgotten there
was even going to be a launch that day.
The whole thing had become routine.
Then I remembered the teacher on
board. As I began to think about the
students, the prayer ended. I had not
. The meeting began and the dynamics
of the agenda took over. After dinner,
three of us found a TV in the basement
of one of the residence halls. As the nar-
Father James J. Bacik is campus
minister and adjunct professor of
humanities at the University of Toledo,
Ohio.
ration and films appeared on the national news, the full reality of the
tragedy began to hit me. .
I was suddenly back in the sixth-
grade classroom in Sandusky St. Mary's
School teaching a religion class on the
Exodus. Someone knocked on the door
and said President Kennedy was shot.
Some of the students cried. I led a
prayer, finished the lesson and headed
for the TV to be joined with millions in
a common effort to handle personal
grief and the national tragedy. Now
here we were again, gathered around
the TV trying to make sense out of a
less' momentous but very significant national tragedy.
The next day at lunch, someone asked
why the shuttle accident was producing
such an intense emotional response
from so many people, especially considering people are killed in accidents
every day. My initial response was that
it had to do with Christa McAuliffe. Her
personal qualities were so attractive —
the infectious smile, vivacious personality, adventuresome spirit and obvious
love for her family.- But she was more
than an attractive, committed teacher.
She came to represent all the dedicated
teachers in the country and, by extension, all who take seriously the task of
serving youth. This set up the special
poignancy of young people around the
country being brought into direct contact with a terrible tragedy.
Although the representative role of
Christa McAuliffe is crucial to understanding the national response, I have
come to think it is not sufficient to explain its scope and intensity. It now
seems the whole tragedy functions at
the symbolic level. It points to the limitations of our most advanced technology. It destroys the implicit assumptions that science is a quasi-religion
that can usher in the new age. It reminds us that our scientific progress
has a dark, destructive side as well.
In the American psyche, the space
program held a privileged position. The
astronauts not only had the right stuff,
but also took on mythic proportions as
people who could cope with any problems with cool rational detachment.
NASA was one organization you could
count on to get the job done. It was,
quite remarkably, preserved from the
criticisms leveled at most other institutions, including churches, universities,
governments and the Peace Corps.
Today, revelations that NASA is a
human institution that has personal
problems and makes mistakes is greeted
with shock and surprise — a clear indication that it had assumed a mythic quality
in the national consciousness.
A former student of mine, now working toward a doctorate in psychology,
wrote me a very insightful analysis of
the depth of his own reactions to the
Challenger tragedy. He linked it to the
danger of a nuclear catastrophe. A
former astronaut commenting on the
disaster said that riding the shuttle was
like being strapped to a bomb. My friend
picked up on this image. "Isn't spaceship earth also strapped to nuclear
bombs?" he asked. The c«
shuttle disaster is the same technology
that controls nuclear weapons. "If the
shuttle can explode, anything can hap-
Here is a perfect example of the way
the Challenger tragedy functions symbolically. It unleashed a profound anx-
ahly destructive side of the technology
that many have assumed is our salvation and our best hope for a better
world. Symbolic events touch individuals in different ways, but always with
the potential to reveal depths ordinarily
One more Utopian element in the
American dream exploded with the
Challenger. This tragedy joined presidential assassinations, Vietnam and
innocence.
tators returned to the theme of the im-
the tragedy and to make sure
absorbed its lessons before
such idealism. The shuttle
tutors us in a proper respect
creaturely finitude and our
gto
3ter
our
limitations. It reminds us that
and technology, far from being
achievements whose dark side must be
squarely faced.
The human adventure involves risk.
Reaching for the stars sometimes
brings instant tragedy. Each step on the
journey brings us closer to death. Such
sober realism does not have to be morbid or paralyzing; it can free us to make
the most of each moment. Hope is
richer, deeper and more fruitful than
optimism. Only when our field of vision
is cleared of idols and naive Utopian
dreams can Christa McAuliffe reappear
as a genuine symbol of the intrinsic
value of the adventuresome spirit and
of committed service. Realistic hope can
only be grounded in the Gracious Mystery that energizes and rewards our always
the stars.
National Catholic Reporter
May 2, 1986